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by Vae



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Consensual, Do not repost, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: Zayn and Louis. Harry's watched every one of their vids together, he's wanked to the sight of Louis's face when Zayn fucks him, he's come way too fast and too hard all over himself hearing the sounds Louis makes when Zayn sucks his cock. He’d answered the ad at least partly because he’d recognised the name of the studio from Zayn and Louis’s vids, because it had looked like they were genuinely having fun, because it looked safe, but he’d thought they were, like, stars. He’d thought he’d end up paired with one of the other boys who’d only done a couple of vids, maybe. Not two boys, and definitely not Zayn and Louis.(It's a porn AU. It's mostly threeway porn and a bit of feelings at the end.)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 204





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**Author's Note:**

> Deep thanks to GoSeaward for the beta, they made this make more sense <3

"So, Harry." The bloke behind the camera gives him a warm smile that's probably meant to be reassuring. "This is your first video with us, right?"

Harry takes a deep breath and remembers to look into the camera. He's sitting on the edge of the biggest bed he's ever seen, trying not to think too much about what's going to happen there in the near future, with his hands folded loosely in his lap because he's not sure what else to do with them. "First video full stop," he says, just like he's meant to, and aims a smile directly at the lens.

"Good, good," the man says with a chuckle. Harry clasps his hands tighter together and hopes they're out of sight of the camera. "Is it your first time with another guy, too?"

God, he hates that. Dave (who probably isn't called Dave, but that's the name he's given Harry) has a vaguely bland American accent, something Harry can't pull out as distinct enough for a better identification, and this had all seemed like a great idea when he'd answered the ad but right now, something about Dave's phrasing's making him uncomfortable. Mostly because he doesn't usually think about boys as 'guys'.

Still, he keeps his game face on, holds his posture relaxed, and tilts his head to the side a little. "Not exactly. I mean, I've done some stuff."

"Like?" Dave encourages. "What have you done?"

Harry shrugs one shoulder, letting himself glance off to the side of the room where two lads are waiting, grinning at him like cats who know they're about to get the cream. Mostly because they are. "Like, handjobs and stuff."

In a move synchronised enough to be slightly intimidating, they both give him double thumbs up.

Harry smiles weakly back at the camera.

"But you've never sucked cock?" Dave does something to the camera, pressing a button that makes the lens move. "Never taken it up the ass or fucked a guy?"

The sudden rush of heat makes Harry dizzy, and he blinks at the camera. "Not yet..."

Dave laughs, and the lens pulls back again. "Good answer. Okay, we've put you with Zayn and Louis today, they're gonna take care of that for you."

Zayn and Louis. Harry's watched every one of their vids together, he's wanked to the sight of Louis's face when Zayn fucks him, he's come way too fast and too hard all over himself hearing the sounds Louis makes when Zayn sucks his cock. He’d answered the ad at least partly because he’d recognised the name of the studio from Zayn and Louis’s vids, because it had looked like they were genuinely having fun, because it looked safe, but he’d thought they were, like, stars. He’d thought he’d end up paired with one of the other boys who’d only done a couple of vids, maybe. Not two boys, and definitely not Zayn and Louis.

Zayn and Louis who are whooping and bouncing onto the bed behind and around him, Zayn settling on his left and Louis on his right, both grinning brightly and linking arms behind Harry's back, thighs pressed against his, and he's suddenly surrounded by hot blokes, both a lot more relaxed than he is. Harry's seen both of them naked and twisted into all kinds of positions and it doesn't seem real that now they're sitting either side of him. Touching him.

"Course we are," Louis says confidently, reaching to put his other hand on Harry's thigh and squeeze. "Going to have fun, aren't we, Harry?"

It's not fair that Harry's feeling so close to overwhelmed already. He swallows hard, watching Louis, and nods wordlessly.

A hand threads into his hair, and given that Harry's pretty sure he knows where both of Louis's hands are, it has to be Zayn's. "Don't worry," Zayn says softly, his voice lower than Louis's, smoother. "We're not going to do anything you don't want."

It's reassuring for all of about half a heartbeat, before Zayn's fingers twist in Harry's hair and pull. Not sharply, but hard enough that Harry bites back a whimper, eyes closing, and fuck, he knows he likes getting his hair pulled but he didn't know he likes it _this_ much, the ache of it and the calm control of Zayn's hold going straight to Harry's cock, filling and beginning to press against his jeans.

"Because you're going to want everything," Louis says, darker and closer than Harry expects. When he manages to open his eyes, Louis's close enough that Harry can only just focus on him, stupidly perfect face right next to his own.

God. He already wants everything.

Distantly, he's aware of Dave saying "take it away, guys". More immediately, he's aware of Zayn moving around behind him, knees splayed either side of his hips, both hands in his hair, and Louis slipping off the bed to kneel in front of him, hands on his thighs.

He's barefoot. They're all barefoot because, like the email said, there's not really any sexy way to take off socks. The email said a lot of things Harry hadn't really considered, but he's followed the instructions closely. He's clean in places he'd never thought of cleaning, he's had what little chest hair he had waxed off again, and he's been very careful about what he's eaten for the last forty eight hours.

The email didn't mention how hard he'd find it to concentrate with two of his most frequent wank-fantasies wrapped around him.

It did mention that Dave preferred first-timers to be more active than passive, show a little initiative, make sure that the viewers were well aware that everything they were doing was something they wanted to do, not something they'd been coerced into. Harry's trying, really he is, but Zayn's mouth is hot on the side of his neck and Louis's hands are pushing up under his t-shirt and Harry's pretty sure that the only reason Zayn's stopping at all is to pull Harry's t-shirt up and over his head.

"Nice ink," Louis says appreciatively, stroking his thumb over _might as well..._ and reminding Harry that he's still weirdly more sensitive where his tatts are. He shivers, nowhere near cold, and puts his hands down on the bed to push back when Zayn tugs at him, moving up the bed to cooler sheets.

"Nice hair," Zayn counters, gets his hands back into it and pulls Harry's head back. Harry lets it go, lips parting, and looks up towards Zayn's face, to that predatory smile that's a lot hotter than it is scary.

Okay, it's a little bit scary. That's what makes it hot.

"Thanks," he manages, hearing his own voice thicker and huskier than usual. His excuse is that Louis's hands are on his hips and that's close enough to his cock to make him a little crazier with how turned on he's getting already.

Zayn grins, twists his fingers hard enough to pull again, and this time Harry does whimper, head lolling back as his body goes lax, dropping into Zayn's confident control. "Pleasure," Zayn says, and bends his head to cover Harry's mouth with his own at the same time Louis's hand closes over Harry's cock, hot through his jeans.

Harry moans, embarrassingly loud, most of the sound fed into Zayn's kiss, his hips canting forwards with a shudder as Louis rubs, slow and intent and maddening. Somewhere Zayn must have let go of Harry's hair with one hand, because Harry can feel an arm around him from behind, hand resting on his stomach, just below his diaphragm. It's steady, it's something to hold onto, and Harry slides his own hand over Zayn's, gripping tightly, opening his mouth in shameless invitation, flicking his tongue against Zayn's lips.

"Think he likes that," Louis says, sounding happy at the discovery, and then his hands are on Harry's flies, slipping the button free, tugging the zip down. "Come on, Harry. Up on your knees for us, there's a good boy."

He is. He _wants_ to be a good boy, scrambling around to get his knees under him without either kicking Zayn in the nuts or losing Zayn's kiss because God, Zayn's an even better kisser than he looks. Slick and slow, it's like a seduction all on its own, and Harry doesn't care that he doesn't need to be seduced because it's that good, it's so good he's sinking in it.

"Oi," Louis objects, hands sliding inside Harry's jeans and over his hips in a seriously distracting way. "Share."

Harry's not sure who's meant to be sharing what, but he does make a sound of distinct disapproval when Zayn breaks the kiss and grins down at him for a moment before... oh. Oh, shit, yeah. Zayn lets go of his hair, doesn't let go of him, and reaches out to take a fistful of Louis's t-shirt, pulling him in closer until Louis and Zayn are kissing right there, right over Harry's shoulder with Harry sandwiched tightly between them.

Letting his head drop back against Zayn's shoulder, Harry swallows hard and tries to remember how to breathe. It's easier without Zayn kissing him, but he's still got Zayn's body pressed up against his back and Zayn's cock pressed up against his ass, close enough that Harry can't miss exactly how much Zayn's enjoying being there. He's also got Louis leaning in against his chest and fuck, he can touch, he's allowed to touch, experimentally running his free hand down over Louis's back. Louis makes this noise, this amazing, indescribable, hot as fuck noise and Harry's caught in astonishment for a moment because _he did that_. He made Louis make that noise. Louis did that because of him, because of his hand, and it takes Louis bucking against him for Harry to realise that he can do that again, he can do more, he can push his hand under Louis's t-shirt and find out how warm Louis's skin is, how smooth, how tight and hard his muscles feel up close and personal.

"Don't stop," Zayn says, right up against Harry's ear, and Harry's not really sure which of them he's talking to but it doesn't matter because he's not stopping. It's maybe a little bit creepy that Harry knows something about what Zayn and Louis like because he's watched every single 'Zayn fucks Louis' vid on the site, but it means that he's fairly confident in bending his fingers to scratch lightly over Louis's back.

The loud swear he gets in response is the only encouragement he needs to do it again.

Zayn chuckles, and backs up, his hands sliding warm and steady over Harry's hips, thumbs almost tickling where they brush against skin. "Off," he says firmly, and Louis whines, screws up his face, then scrambles back himself to pull his own t-shirt off.

"Yeah, okay," Louis says, muffled by a t-shirt tight enough to mess up his hair as it comes off over his head. "Okay, let's see the goods."

Harry's definitely old enough not to blush, but he's never heard it put quite that bluntly. Then again, he's never shot a porn vid before either. He's really not quite expecting the camera that appears on the edge of his field of vision, aimed towards his flies as Louis's fingers flick the button free then wiggle inside to hold the fabric steady as he pulls the zip down.

Not that Harry gets much chance to focus on the camera or on Louis's fingers, because Zayn's arm wraps around him again, tugging him back, then Zayn's hand finds his jaw and turns his head firmly away from the camera and towards him. "Focus on us," Zayn says softly. "Focus on me."

"I..." Harry manages weakly, and clings onto Zayn's arm with both hands because otherwise he's going to do something stupid like try to stop Louis taking his jeans off. He wants his jeans off, really he does, and he wants Louis to be the one to take them off.

"Yeah," Zayn says, giving him a smile. "You. You're going to love it, Harry."

"Love what?" Not the camera. He's pretty sure he's not going to love the camera. It turns out that an actual camera is a bit different from fantasies of people watching him. It’s not bad, exactly, just a bit new, and Harry focuses hard on the relative familiarity of Zayn's face as he can feel Louis pulling his jeans down, air cool on his skin, on his cock.

"Everything," Louis says pertly, and then there's a sting as Louis bites his hip, sharp and swift.

Harry shudders, feeling his response pulse through his cock.

"And," Zayn says, lower, closer, "you're going to be so much fun for us."

“So much,” Louis echoes. “Oh my god, so much. Jesus, Zayn, get an eyeful of this.”

Zayn’s chin digs into Harry’s shoulder a bit, hard and not quite comfortable, and then he whistles, low and long. “Want it, babe?”

“Me?” Harry asks, not quite sure who Zayn’s asking, and gets rewarded with Zayn kissing his neck.

“Me,” Louis says with a lot more certainty, shoving Harry’s jeans down to his knees. “Hard for us already, darling, I think I’m flattered.”

“’S a big compliment,” Zayn agrees, scruff on his cheek rough against Harry’s neck as he tilts his head back to nip at Harry’s earlobe. “Get those jeans off, yeah, Lou? Both of you.”

Harry squirms, shoulders pushing back against Zayn. Not enough to get away, but enough to feel that Zayn’s really _there_ , solid and warm and holding him up. There’s heat everywhere, even where he’s not being touched, maybe even more there because he can see the way Louis’s looking at him, that little smile on Louis’s lips that’s nearly a smirk. “I can…”

“No, pet.” Zayn flicks his tongue behind Harry’s ear, hot and wet and so fucking good, Harry’s never noticed his ears being a hotspot before but apparently they are for Zayn Malik’s mouth. “Let us take care of you, yeah? Lou’s got this.”

“Might be a bit much for even me to handle,” Louis says, and that’s definitely a smirk. “Just come up a bit, Harry, let’s get these over your knees.”

It’s a mix of Harry lifting himself up and, he’s pretty sure, Zayn lifting Harry up, but his jeans come off and the camera slides in closer, into his peripheral vision again. It’s not aimed at him this time though, it’s aimed at Louis as Louis strips out of his own jeans and oh, wow. Louis's not wearing underwear either, which shouldn't have been a surprise but somehow it is. It’s a surprise how hard lust slams into Harry at the sight of Louis's cock rising up as his jeans slide down, gorgeously hard and flushed and at least some of that is because of him, Harry, not just for Zayn.

"Fuck," Harry manages, startling himself with how thick and low his voice comes out, almost a rumble, breathless.

Zayn's laugh rolls through him, vibrating through his back. "Oh, yeah, we're gonna get to that, Haz. Lou's got something he wants first, though, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," Louis agrees happily, crawling back up towards them and not stopping, continuing up over Harry's body until Louis's hands meet Zayn's on Harry's hips, pressing him back down and into Zayn. Harry drops, feet sliding forwards down the bed, legs stretching out either side of Louis, arse hitting the sheet at the same time Louis's mouth meets his own.

Louis kisses harder than Zayn, sharper, teeth catching against Harry's lip, tongue pushing deeper as Harry opens to it, someone's hand in Harry's hair pulling his head back again, held up, held down, held back, dizzy with the heat of being kissed and being held. One of Harry’s hands finding Zayn's denim-covered thigh while the other lands somewhere on Louis's back and startling a sound from Louis that tastes almost as good as it sounds. Harry squirms, or tries, failing, wanting to be closer to both of them at the same time.

"Easy, pet," Zayn murmurs, lips right against Harry's ear. "We've got you."

The kiss ends and Harry gulps in cold air, blinking hazy eyes open to see Louis licking his lips. Just for a second, then Harry's gaze drops instinctively to Louis's cock, lovely and thick and hard and maybe he's never sucked a cock before but he desperately wants to know what Louis's cock would feel like in his mouth. "Can I...?"

"Better question," Louis says, grin sharp-edged. "Zayn?"

"Yeah, in a bit," Zayn said, and there's heat on Harry's shoulder, on his collarbone, then something hard, god, Zayn's teeth, a deep aching pull that's Zayn's mouth on Harry's skin and oh, that has to be what a lovebite feels like, the slowly deepening heat that connects directly with Harry's cock. "Lou first, though."

"Okay," Harry breathes, not really sure what he's agreeing to but he really doesn't care. Zayn wants it and presumably Louis wants it and everything so far's been so good that Harry really doesn't want to argue, trusts them.

Zayn's lips brush against Harry's shoulder again. "Good boy. Get back up on your knees for us, yeah? Put your knees outside mine, I'm gonna hold you up."

Up for what, Harry has no idea, but he's going to try anyway. He scrambles to get his feet back under him without kicking anyone, follows the support of Zayn's arms around him and Louis's hands guiding his knees to get into the position that Zayn wants, with his knees spread wide open and his arse pressed back against Zayn's hard-on through his jeans, his back against Zayn's chest.

"Fuck, look at you," Louis says, and catches Harry's hands. "This one down on your leg for me, hold onto your ankle if you want. This one? My shoulder. Don't pull my hair, I hate that, and I want to enjoy you."

Harry gets about half a second to wonder why he'd pull Louis's hair, then Louis bends down and takes the head of Harry's cock between his lips, intensely hot, wet and slick and smooth and tighter than Harry had ever expected it to feel, making him cry out and try to arch, instinct wanting more. Zayn's arm around him holds him steady, Zayn's hand locks his free hand down to his ankle, and Louis's hum rolls through him in a shudder of pleasure and need. "Please, oh, please..."

"Knew you were gonna be good for us," Zayn says, and nips Harry's earlobe, another little spike of sensation layering over the rest. "Hold still as you can until I say, Haz. Lou loves sucking cock and he looks so fucking pretty with his mouth stuffed full of yours."

Harry's pretty sure that he whimpers at that. He definitely whimpers when he manages to open his eyes again and look at Louis, who's got both hands wrapped around Harry's cock to hold it up, his mouth still only covering the head, and his eyes turned up dark to meet Harry's.

"Please," Harry breathes again, not daring to move, holding so carefully still, begging Louis, begging Zayn, begging either of them to give him more.

"Good boy," Zayn murmurs, and Harry's cock jumps in pleased response. "Show us, Lou, then you can take a bit more."

Louis's lips break from Harry's cock as they stretch into a grin, then open enough that Harry can see as well as feel Louis's tongue pressed against his cock for three unsteady, heavy heartbeats before Louis closes his mouth back around Harry's cock and slides down, slick and hot, suction enough to have Harry shivering with building arousal and the effort to hold still.

"Oh, fuck, yeah." Zayn's arm across Harry's stomach loosens and his hand strokes down to brush against the base of Harry's cock, has to be touching Louis's fingers but Harry can't look any more, can't watch and not come, the pressure of it heavier and heavier, the need sharper and tighter.

"I'm gonna..." Harry gasps, and Zayn's fingers wrap tight around the base of his cock, squeezing back the threat.

"Not yet," Zayn says firmly. "Wait until I say, pet. Let Louis enjoy you a bit more, yeah?"

Mute, Harry nods, reeling from the idea that Louis's enjoying this even half as much as he is, sinking into the pull and slide of Louis's mouth working over his cock in long slow strokes, Zayn's hand helping him hold back from coming as he sinks deeper into the red-black pleasure of the endless moment, barely aware of the sounds he's making, certain they're not words.

Cold air on his cock is his first clue that Louis's stopped, just enough time to realise that until Louis's hand is moving over his cock instead of Louis's mouth and Zayn's grip loosens and all of the need and pressure and lust and pleasure surges back over him, Zayn's voice telling him to come just as he can't resist any more and he's crying out, coming in slow pulses of glittering bright pleasure.

When Harry manages to open his eyes again, Louis's grinning at him from too close to focus on, and then Louis's kissing him again, softer and slower than before, salt-bitter taste in his mouth that Harry distantly realises is the taste of his own cock, his own pre-come. He's still remembering how to breathe when Louis stretches over his shoulder to kiss Zayn again, low sounds of pleasure from both of them right next to his ear.

"Good start," Louis says, sounding smug. Harry can't even resent the smugness. It's well earned, considering that he feels like he's completely melted against Zayn, stomach sticky with his own come drying against his skin.

"Very good," Zayn agrees, lets go of Harry's ankle, and slides fingers back into Harry's hair, pulling his head back to an angle where Zayn can kiss him, just as deliberate as before.

"Alright, alright, let him breathe," Louis says, and Harry whines when Zayn's mouth leaves his. He doesn't intend to, sound pulled from him by pure instinct, resenting the loss, missing the contact.

Louis pats Harry's thigh, leaving his hand in place, another warm connection. Zayn's still behind him, one hand on his shoulder, one arm still wrapped around him. Harry's safe. He's warm, he's safe, he's pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to keep himself upright but that's okay, because Zayn's holding him up.

"Let's get you cleaned up a bit, yeah?" Louis says, his smile still blurry.

Harry blinks a couple of times, bringing him into clearer focus. It's a nice smile, softer than before, less sharp edges to it. Possibly it's just that Louis's mouth muscles are tired. They've been working hard, after all. "Is that it?"

Zayn laughs behind him, a warm, low sound that Harry can feel just as much as hear. "Nowhere near, pet. Don't worry, you're going to get your turn. Just need to get the jizz off you before we keep going, it's a camera thing."

Cameras, right. Harry nods slowly, head feeling heavy without Zayn's hand in his hair. "Should I move?"

Louis's smile widens, turns into a grin. "Depends if your legs are going to sleep, love."

Wiggling his toes thoughtfully, Harry considers that, feeling the pulse and ache of thigh muscles stretched and working, and shifts his feet so the top of them are flat against the sheet instead of being braced on his toes. "I'm alright."

"Yeah, you are," Lous agrees, and licks his lips in a deliberately lascivious manner that threatens to make Harry laugh. Would make him laugh, except Harry's too focused on watching the tip of Louis's tongue, remembering exactly where it's just been, ghost of sensation dancing over his skin.

The warmth of Zayn's arm shifts from Harry's chest, and someone - maybe Zayn, maybe someone else, Harry's still a bit fuzzy on perception - scrubs a warm wet flannel across Harry's stomach, then wipes it more gently over his cock. Someone else pats him with a towel, then the hands withdraw and Louis shifts forwards again, towards Harry, towards Zayn.

"Ready to go again?" Louis asks, and Harry can feel Zayn's face shift against his hair in a nod. "You too, Harold?"

"It's Harry," Harry says, a half-hearted protest because he's almost certain that any sincere protest is just going to make sure Louis calls him Harold for the rest of eternity. "What's, um, what's next?"

"Next," Zayn says, soft and right next to Harry's ear, "is your turn. Want to try sucking cock for us?"

Harry's limp cock tries hard to revive, twitching approval of that idea as desire rouses again in a sharp pulse of want. Dimly, he's aware of someone in the background telling the cameramen to start recording again. "Whose?"

"Got a preference?" Louis arches his back, hips lifting, beautifully provocative, and Harry's eyes drop automatically to his cock. Louis's got a lovely cock, not too long, nice and thick, and just as tempting as earlier when Harry thinks about getting his mouth on it. "Whoever's not getting their cock sucked is going to start opening you up for us. And then, he's going to fuck you."

Harry's pretty sure that he actually whimpers at that. Maybe a whine, he wants it so much, he _wants_ , wants both, doesn't want to have to choose, just for it to happen. All of it.

"Might be nice to see your face for a change," Zayn says, slow and thoughtful, and yes, yes, Zayn's face is good. Zayn's cock would be good, as well.

"Please," Harry manages, breathless, and licks his lips, head arched back to look at Zayn. It means that Zayn's upside down, but he's there, and he's so fucking beautiful.

Louis flicks his fingers against Harry's thigh, high enough to make him startle, not quite a flinch. "Which do you want, love? Suck Zayn's cock or suck mine? Just give us a name."

Harry swallows, hard to do with his neck stretched out, and lifts his head to make it easier to do it again. He wants to taste Louis's cock, wants to feel that thickness in his mouth, but if he does, it means he doesn't get to feel it inside him. Oh god, inside him, one of them's going to fuck him right here, right now, or if not now then at least really soon, as long as he doesn't die first from heat and desire. "Can I see?"

Teeth close lightly on his ear and Zayn laughs, a lovely rumble of sound. "Want to compare and contrast?"

"Yes," Harry says honestly, because he does, because although he thought he had every detail of Zayn and Louis's bodies burned into his memory, it's different with them right here and he's never thought of actually comparing them. Never wanted to suck one more than the other, never wanted one of them to fuck him more than the other. At least, not just based on their cock.

Zayn pushes Harry gently and Louis catches him, bringing him forwards enough to let Zayn move from behind him. Harry misses Zayn's heat immediately, the contact and the support, skin prickling to goosebumps at the relative chill of the air. It's worth it, though, to see both of them side by side, see the way Louis arches to offer his lips to Zayn for a slow kiss, see the pink slide of their tongues when Zayn deepens the kiss, wriggling out of his jeans at the same time.

They're both hard. They're both ready. Zayn's cock is longer, Louis's is thicker, and Harry wants them both. He's going to get them both, as long as he can decide where.

"So?" Zayn says, eyes dark as he looks back at Harry.

Louis rests his head against Zayn's shoulder and grins. "Want to suck my cock, Harry?"

That makes everything simpler. "Yes. Please."

"So polite," Louis approves, and leans in to kiss Harry again, his lips still slick from Zayn's kiss, still sweet, still warm.

"Means your arse is mine," Zayn says, sliding his fingers back into Harry's hair and twisting, just enough for a firm grip. "I'll just have to watch back later to see your face stuffed full of cock."

Harry moans, shameless with want, leaning into the touch, reaching out blindly for Louis, finding an arm, a shoulder, holding on. "Please."

"God, I love how much you want it," Louis says, words muffled, lips still against Harry's, then bites Harry's bottom lip, tugging on it a bit before letting go. "Go on, then. Don't bite, I don't like that."

Harry manages a small nod, a small sound at the way that pulls on his hair in Zayn's hold, and tries to bend down. For a moment, he can't move, Zayn's grip holding him in place, then Zayn's pushing him down as much as Harry's going.

"All fours," Zayn says as Harry goes down, Louis's cock tantalisingly close, gorgeously hard. "Arse up so I can get to it."

"You want him to," Louis says, sliding his hand into Harry's hair so they're both holding him there for a few amazing heartbeats before Zayn lets go. "Might even get his mouth on you if you ask nicely."

The thought of that is enough to fog Harry's brain even more, a soft whine of pure desire escaping as he leans into Louis's hand, parts his lips, stretches his tongue out, trying to reach Louis's cock, trying to taste, wanting to know how it’s going to feel on his tongue and in his mouth.

"Mouth only, is it?" Louis's free hand curls around his cock, lifting it up, closer to Harry's mouth. "Just ask Zayn nicely first, then you can have it. Fuck, you're such a slut, look at you."

Look at him, yes, Harry wants Louis to look at him, wants Zayn to look at him, knows that the cameras and crew are looking for him and later the whole thing is going to be put on the internet so anyone who pays can look at him. He almost manages to swallow another moan, eyes fixed on Louis's hand and Louis's cock head emerging from it. "Please. Please, fuck..."

"Oh, yeah," Zayn says, voice sounding lower, rougher, and warm hands land on Harry's arse, rubbing slowly. It's almost reassuring, right up to the point where something - Zayn's thumbs, it has to be his thumbs, his fingers are still spread over Harry's arse - slides down between his cheeks, pressing them apart.

Harry moans, only managing to keep from making any louder sounds because Louis finally tugs his head down and suddenly Harry can reach Louis's cock with his outstretched tongue, licking with more enthusiasm than control. Louis rewards him with a soft hiss of breath and pulls him closer, letting Harry stretch his mouth open further to bring Louis's cock between his lips, into his mouth, wonderfully thick and hard and warm. It feels bigger than he's ever expected, a faint ache starting at the corners of his jaw, and he has to actively think about keeping his teeth to himself. No biting, Louis doesn't like biting. Harry can remember that.

He can try, anyway, concentrating on finding out how to keep his lips closed around Louis's cock so he can suck without letting his teeth touch. He's focused hard enough on Louis's cock in his mouth that he misses what's happening behind him until Zayn's fingers - two of them, he can feel two points of contact - slide between his arse cheeks, slick and easy, to rub over his hole.

It's not like Harry's never touched himself there. It's not an easy angle, but he's done yoga, he's flexible, he can reach. He's even got one very carefully hidden dildo that he never really has the patience to open himself up for first. None of that's prepared him for how it actually feels when someone else touches him, how unpredictable it is, how vulnerable he feels when Zayn pushes one finger inside him, unyielding and warm and so smooth, so easy.

Louis's hand shifts in his hair, pushing it back off his face, out of the way. Harry takes that as a reminder and redoubles his efforts, leaning down, bending his head, pushing himself until he can feel his throat trying to close up against the intrusion. Eyes streaming, not quite choking, he pulls back up, pushing against Louis's hand, nose stuffed, mouth opening wider to snatch a breath that turns into another, louder moan when Zayn's finger presses deeper into him, a welcome intrusion.

It's so different, so new, so _much_. Zayn's finger isn't as thick as his own, but there's a thrill built into the fact that Harry doesn't know what it's going to do, or when it's going to do it. It's out of his control and so much better for that, confidence in the rock and slide as Zayn works his way in.

"Made to be fucked," Zayn murmurs, low enough that Harry can barely hear it, soft enough that he isn't sure if the mics are even going to pick it up. It doesn't matter, he doesn't care, because Zayn's saying it to him and a burst of pride warms his chest, unlocks his muscles, lets him shift his hips and rock back greedily, squirming, wanting more of that feeling.

"You should try his mouth," Louis says, gratifyingly breathless, and yes, Harry can do that as well, can remember both, even if he's pretty sure he's not very skilled. He's trying, though he wants that too, he wants to keep the hot thickness of Louis's cock stuffing his mouth as Zayn's fingers - more than one, now, he can feel it in the ache and width - work to stretch him open.

"Or he can try mine," Zayn says. Harry's really not thinking clearly enough to work out what that means. Louis's cock and Zayn's fingers are as much as he can focus on, feeling his lips spit slick and wet when he lifts his head again, finds a rhythm where he can suck down Louis's cock in one movement and pull off as he pushes back onto Zayn's fingers in the next.

It's wonderful. It's an easy movement that Harry can lose himself in, satisfaction in knowing that he's doing okay from the way Louis's fingers flex in his hair, pleasure from the ache growing in his jaw and the fullness in his mouth, more pleasure from the rhythm of Zayn's fingers working into him, pressing apart, and then something else, something hotter, wetter, startlingly intense.

Zayn's tongue.

Harry's startled, overwhelmed moan is muffled around Louis's cock, but it echoes inside his head, shocked pleasure running through him, heat from his mouth to his chest to his arse to his cock, hanging heavy between his legs. He's getting hard again, sooner than he thought would be possible, if he'd been thinking at all.

He's not thinking. He's _feeling_.

It’s an effort to remember to breathe but Harry’s trying his hardest. Trying to curl his tongue around Louis's cock, trying to keep sucking and keep giving to Louis, his fingers gripping the sheets, feeling everything, heat and want prickling over his skin from every slide of Zayn's fingers and Zayn's tongue and Louis's cock until Harry's trembling with it and Louis pulls harder on his hair and Harry chokes, throat full, eyes watering. Louis arches and shudders and comes, gripping Harry's head, with a perfect, familiar groan that sounds completely new.

Louis lets go before Harry's really struggling for breath, pushes Harry's head up until Harry can gasp in air, blinking wet eyes until tear-stuck eyelashes part and Louis's face swims into focus, hair disarranged, cheeks flushed. With one hand, Louis strokes Harry's hair back from his eyes, a gentle movement, almost tender. "Not bad for a first time."

Startled into it, Harry laughs, sound shifting to a moan when Zayn's tongue slides over his arse again, right around his hole, slick and more flexible than Zayn's finger. Heat everywhere, pleasure sliding over him, intimate intensity that he doesn't know how to deal with, shifting restlessly until Zayn's free hand grasps his hip to keep him still.

Louis catches Harry's hands, bringing him in closer, easier now Harry's not worried about accidentally hurting Louis's cock. "Let us hear you, love. Head on my thigh, that's it, just breathe and let it out."

"Want," Harry manages, somewhere between a breath and a mumble, grasping Louis's hands tighter than he'd intended to, hands aching with the force of his grip.

"Oh, you're gonna get, love." Louis still sounds breathless, and Harry's incredibly pleased by that, a slightly smug satisfaction and wonder that he did that, he made Louis sound that way.

He still wants, though.

There's a stretch, a faint ache, heat, Zayn's fingers stretching him open, and then Harry's got no feeling left except shocked sharp pleasure when the hot, slick feeling of Zayn's tongue presses into him, making him shake with the strength of how much he wants more. "Please."

"So polite for us," Louis says, squeezing Harry's hands. "Zayn, think we could turn him over?"

Zayn's tongue retreats and Harry whines at the abrupt loss of heat and contact, even with Louis still holding his hands and Zayn still holding his hip.

"You said you wanted to see his face," Louis says, as if Zayn's said something against the idea. it has to be an expression, something Harry can't see. "And it's such a nice one, with his lips all pink from my cock."

There's a soft sound from behind Harry, a Zayn sound that isn't speech, and Zayn's hand presses more firmly against Harry's hip as his fingers retreat. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Can you move, Harry?"

Harry's honestly not sure, but he's willing to try, just like he’s willing to keep trying to talk with his mouth aching and his lips and throat hot and sore from Louis’s cock. "Maybe?"

Louis grins, and Zayn chuckles. "Alright then, give it a go. On to your back."

It's not really controlled movement. Harry falls more than rolls onto his side, following the guidance of Louis's hands to keep moving onto his back into a messy sprawl, blinking up at the sight of Zayn looking nearly as flushed as Harry feels, his hair sticking up on one side.

Louis moves with Harry, but doesn't let go of his hands, tugging Harry's arms up above his head, stretching him out. Zayn's eyes flick up towards Louis and Harry arches his head back to look as well, trying to work out what's going on.

"Yeah," Zayn says softly, and licks his lips. "Yeah, you hold him for me, Lou."

"Pleasure," Louis promises, and shifts his grip to Harry's wrists, enough of a squeeze to make Harry writhe without actually hurting him. It's almost soothing, really, comforting, to have Louis holding onto him.

"Please," Harry whispers again, looks up at Louis and then back down at Zayn as Zayn pushes Harry's legs apart, settling between them.

"Seemed like you were pretty flexible earlier, pet." Zayn says, and pushes Harry's thighs wider.

Harry silently and fervently blesses all the hours he's spent doing yoga to try to sort out his back, because it means he can spread as wide as Zayn wants, knees bending once they need to. "Bit, yeah."

"Enough," Zayn says, bending down, and then his mouth's on the inside of Harry's thigh and his fingers are sliding back inside Harry and Harry's grasping at Louis's hands in relief.

"He's good, yeah?" Louis says, almost casual about it, and Harry honestly can't tell whether Louis's addressing him or Zayn, doesn't care, because if Louis's asking him then the answer is yes and if Louis's asking Zayn then he wants the answer to be yes, wants to be good.

Teeth graze against Harry's skin, making his cock pulse at the bright hard sensation, and he remembers what Louis said, lets the feeling out in a low moan that fades as Zayn's mouth moves away from his skin, feeling like a promise left unfulfilled.

"He's good," Zayn agrees, running his thumb over the place where he didn't bite quite hard enough to make Harry yell. Just enough to make him restless with frustration, with want, as Zayn twists and stretches his fingers, another tease of sensation.

"Give him something, then?" Louis says, and it's definitely a question, not an order.

Harry watches Zayn's grin flick out, swift and dangerous, and Zayn nods, and Zayn bends his fingers inside Harry, and Harry cries out, another shock of pleasure spiking through him, settling heavy in his cock, more heat coiling inside him, tugging his balls tight.

"Oh, please," Harry breathes, eyes fixed on Zayn's face. He doesn't really know what he's asking for, doesn't care, just more and more from Zayn, and soon. "Please."

"Since you're asking nicely," Zayn says, and shifts his hand, and Harry whines satisfaction at the stretch of more fingers pushing inside him, pushing him open. It’s wider than he’s ever pushed himself, edge of a burn around the ache, and it’s _perfect_.

"He does, doesn't he?" Louis agrees. "Bit vague about it, though. How about you tell us what you want, Harry?"

Harry blinks and swallows, mouth dry, pretty sure that it was very obvious what he wanted, given that he was naked and spread out and had Zayn's fingers in his arse, but... oh. A flash of light reflected off a lens, another reminder, the need to show that he wanted what was happening, what was going to happen. To ask for it. To gather enough thought together, and he didn't think he could manage anything eloquent. Two syllables would probably be enough, though. "Fuck me?"

Louis's hands tighten on his wrists, and Zayn's eyes go darker, and Zayn's fingers twist inside him. "Think you're ready for my cock, yeah?"

"Please," Harry managed, a breath, a whisper, a plea, everything focused on feeling Zayn's fingers and watching Zayn's cock, looking bigger now Harry's facing the reality of it inside him. He's not nervous, exactly, he wants it, wants to feel Zayn inside him, but it's new and he's certain that it's going to feel as different from a dildo as Zayn's fingers feel different from his own.

"So good, Harry," Louis says, squeezing his wrists before easing up, not letting go. Harry's glad of that, wants the contact, the grounding.

"Not going to tell me that I'm good?" Zayn says with a grin that Harry hears more than sees. His eyes are fixed on Zayn's hand and Zayn's cock as Zayn rolls on a condom. Another step closer to being inside him.

"I'll let Harry judge that one," Louis says, sounding suspiciously like he's grinning.

Harry can't take his eyes off Zayn to check, because Zayn's finally moving, leaning over him, stretching - oh. Stretching to kiss Louis, slow and lazy, right over Harry's head, as Zayn's cock hangs over his own, tantalisingly close.

"Please?" Harry tries again, not caring how desperate he sounds, because he _is_ desperate, he wants, he aches, and he's empty when Zayn's fingers slide out of him, leaving him gaping open and trying to tilt his hips up to follow the direction they've gone.

"Be a shame not to finish the job," Louis says, sounding nearly as breathless as Harry feels. Harry can empathise. He remembers what Zayn's mouth felt like on his, and what Zayn's mouth felt like on his arse, and oh God Louis just kissed Zayn after Zayn had his mouth on Harry's arse and Harry probably shouldn't find that quite as hot as it is.

"Please," Harry repeats, breathless, staring up at Louis and Zayn. He's never seen them kiss from this angle, never known how it feels to have Louis's hands on him and Zayn's thighs pressed up against his own, so much skin contact, so much heat, so much desire. "Zayn, _please_..."

Zayn looks down at him with a grin, bends down, and then Harry's getting kissed, whimpering his need into it even as the blunt thick heat of Zayn's cock presses into him, smoother and easier than he's ever imagined, still a stretch, still incredible and overwhelming.

An ache from his wrists reminds Harry that Louis's still there and he manages to open his eyes, trying to look back and up without losing Zayn's mouth on his. He loses it anyway, because Zayn shifts position and everything goes white and sharp and glittering for a moment, stealing Harry's breath as something too intense to be called pleasure zips up his spine and melts his brain.

Harry doesn't mean to make any sound, but he must do, because when he opens his eyes, Zayn's giving him a wide, satisfied grin, his lips parted, his breath just loud enough for Harry to hear it over the heavy thud of his own heart. It's a beautiful sight, just as beautiful as the feel of Louis holding onto him, holding him down, stretching him out, and Harry curls up, wrapping his legs around Zayn's hips in shameless encouragement. "Fuck, please..."

"Oh, yeah," Zayn agrees, and then there's a rhythm for Harry to fall into, steady and vital and essential, heart beating a counterpoint, his cock slicking arcs against his stomach with every roll of his hips as he works to meet every thrust Zayn makes, chasing more of that bright sharp pleasure that's even better than the slide and stretch of Zayn's cock pushing into him, over and over and over.

Dildos have never felt like this. Anything Harry's had control of himself has never felt like this, so relentless, so intense, every thrust pushing another breathless, needy sound from Harry's throat. One moment his lips are parted on a gasp, the next he's sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he struggles to adjust to the building layers of pleasure and sensation and desire and _need_ , too strong to be want, filling him up and escaping in moans and curses. Distantly, Harry can hear Louis's encouragement, hoarse and constant, another harmony in the music that's carrying him higher, higher, not quite high enough.

He's almost wordless with want when Zayn pulls out and pushes him down, spreads him out, strips off the condom and comes in hot stripes that land heavy over his stomach, over his cock, over his chest. Harry's got no words left, barely breath, whimpering in frustration at the heavy tight ache and pull in his cock and his balls, desperate and close and not quite able to reach where he needs to be able to come.

Hands shift his arms, move his wrists together, and one hand curls around both his wrists, weight pressing them down to the bed. Another hand - two other hands, different hands - brush against his cock, then both take hold of him and that's the last push that Harry needs, dropping into orgasm with a hoarse, breathless yell, back arching, legs still around Zayn, eyes forced closed, heat of the release rushing through him and prickling sweat over his skin, sticking curls of hair to his face.

Harry's still panting and breathless when someone calls "Cut!" and reality breaks through at the same time as Zayn moves away and the pressure on his wrists fades back. It feels like he's floating, adrift, anchorless, and he whines, trying to blink, trying to open his eyes.

"Still here," Louis's voice says, closer than Harry expects, and Harry turns his head towards it in deep relief, vision still blurred. He can see a face, pale and sharp enough to be Louis, and then there's warmth on the other side of him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Can take a moment," Zayn says softly. "Not long, sorry, they need to reset for the next one."

Right. Right, the next one. Harry nods, then rolls his head back to centre, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath, hoping it's going to help him settle.

"You were fucking amazing," Louis says, more loudly, and that's probably Louis that's bringing Harry's arms down, gentle and firm, guiding them back to his sides. They feel heavy, but they're beginning to feel like his own again.

"Brilliant," Zayn agrees, and the hand on Harry's shoulder squeezes for a moment, identifying itself as probably belonging to Zayn because of that. "Felt pretty great, too."

"Did," Harry says, voice rusty, and can't help a wide, silly smile at the sound of it. He blinks again, bringing Louis's face more or less into focus.

"For all of us," Louis says firmly. "No, don't move, love. Give it a moment, Zayn's fending them off. When you can walk, I’ll show you where the showers are."

Showers, right. A shower would probably be a good idea, because Harry's becoming aware that there's more than just his own come on his skin, and that much jizz is apparently enough to get itchy and uncomfortable as it dries. "Did you come on me, too?"

"Not today." Louis's hand blurs as it moves closer to Harry's face and peels a damp curl free from his forehead, tucking it back. "Might talk about it for another time when you're a bit more with it, yeah?"

Harry hasn't let himself think about another time. He's not been able to think past this time, his first time, not knowing what it would really be like, how it would feel to have all those cameras pointed at him and all those people watching. "Yeah," he says vaguely, and licks his lips, feeling them dry, feeling his mouth dry. "Is there water, please?"

"Not right here, Dave thinks it makes it look like we don't like the taste of spunk." Louis scowls at that, stroking Harry's hair back again. "But there's a fridge near the showers. Think you could sit up for me?"

For Louis makes a difference. Harry's not sure he'd be able to sit up for himself, but for Louis, and for water, he can try. "Why's Zayn arguing?"

Louis shrugs and squirms his fingers under Harry's shoulder, nails digging in in what's probably an attempt to make Harry move. It works, sort of. Harry doesn't want to move away from the touch, but it's pretty clear that it's a signal to move, so he tries to move, slightly surprised to discover that his muscles still work and he can pull himself up to sit. It's the same sort of heavy ache he gets after a really good workout, and he hadn't expected it from sex, but it's nice in the same way that the workout ache is nice. It's satisfying, and it's a reminder of how hard he's worked, and it's a reassurance that it really happened.

"Thing is," Louis says, oblivious to Harry's quiet satisfaction, “it's all about money, yeah? So the quicker we move the quicker they can get this place set for the next shoot. Sometimes Dave needs a bit of a reminder that we're people and not just another bit of the set, and Zayn brings in enough money that he's not going to get dropped for being a pain in the arse."

The explanation settles a cold core through Harry, another reminder that although it's been amazing, his whole afternoon's happened because he decided it would be a good idea to try doing porn as a way to lose his virginity. He was always aware that Zayn and Louis are real people as well as, well, hot blokes who have sex on his laptop screen, but he's a lot more aware of the people-ness of them now he's actually met them. "Sorry."

"What for?" Louis grins, grabbing for Harry's hand and beginning to move. "Come on, time to try standing. It's okay, I know my face and my dick aren't as pretty as Zayn's."

"Your arse is better, though," Harry says, still too fuzzy-headed to filter his words.

Louis gives a sharp crack of laughter, pulling Harry up to a wobbly stand. "And don't you forget it. Zayn? We're good to go now."

Zayn looks back at Louis and nods, face serious, then turns back to Dave. "Five minutes more than this next time, and then you can start hassling us to move."

"Five minutes less," Dave says. "You're not first timers."

"We're still working fucking hard," Zayn says, voice hard, and comes up on Harry's other side. Harry's glad of the support, even if Zayn lets go once they reach the hallway because it's not wide enough for all three of them across.

Louis doesn't let go.

Not until they reach the showers, anyway. Harry's even more glad of the shower, somewhere he can stand with his hands pressed against the tiles and his head bent forwards, letting the hot water flatten his hair and beat down on his neck and shoulders. There's shower gel in there, something unlabelled with an almost familiar scent, hard to place until Harry realises that he's smelled traces of it on both Zayn and Louis in the last... however long it's been. He hasn't exactly been watching the clock.

Harry's not sure whether he likes the idea of taking the smell of Zayn and Louis home with him. He's still trying to work it out when Louis's head appears around the shower curtain, and Harry's seized with the ridiculous urge to cover his cock with his hands. Ridiculous, because Louis's seen it and tasted it and touched it and it's been videoed for anyone who wants to pay to see.

"Need a hand?" Louis says cheerfully. "It can be a bitch to get the lube out. I remember my first time, felt like I was shitting come for the next six hours. You're not, by the way, it's just, like, slippery, the condoms here are safe."

Harry blinks at the flood of words, then again because water's run into his eyes. He swears under his breath, trying to wipe water away while fresh water's still pouring in.

"Ah, right," Louis says. "Like that, yeah? Move over a bit for me."

Automatically, Harry shuffles over, yelping as his arse makes contact with cold tile, belatedly realising that it's meant that he's not under the flow of the shower any more and he can actually wipe water away from his eyes without it immediately being replaced. "What?"

"Getting a bit wobbly?" Louis nods, reaching up, then scowls. "Alright, giant, reach the shower head down for me. Lift it a bit and it comes off, yeah?"

It's so much easier to do what he's told than to think about doing it for himself. Harry reaches up, fumbles the shower head free in a rush of discovery, and passes it over to Louis.

"Good," Louis says, and gives Harry a warm smile. "Now, hands on the wall and stick your arse out, I'll rinse it out for you."

That's a really, really weird sensation. Harry keeps his hands on the tile and closes his eyes again, breathing deeply against the feeling of the water pushing inside him. It's not how it felt when he cleaned himself out earlier, there's more force to the water. It's warmer, too. "Why?"

"Because no one should have to do this themselves their first time," Louis says firmly. "Doesn't matter if it's porn or in someone's bedroom or on a floor or in the gents somewhere, whatever floats your boat. You do it with someone, and you should clean up with someone, too. It's like balance."

It makes more sense than Harry had expected, and he nods in relief as the pressure retreats and the water stops. He can feel that his arse is still dripping, but it definitely feels less slippery and he's less self-conscious about it. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" Louis hits the button on the wall and the water stops, immediately bringing the temperature down.

"Clean up with someone, your first time." The words feel weirdly heavy, and Harry shakes his head, trying to clear it.

"Nope," Louis says. "That's why I know no one should. Come on, Harold, let's get you dry and get some water inside you."

"You just did," Harry protested.

Louis laughs and pulls the curtain back to reveal Zayn wrapped in a black robe that doesn't look thick enough to keep him warm, holding a towel out to Harry. Louis takes it before Harry can, starting to rub Harry down with brisk, efficient strokes. "I mean like a drink, not like that."

"Got some water, too," Zayn says, and pulls a bottle from the pocket of his robe, flipping the cap open and offering it over.

Harry gets to that before Louis can intercept it, holding it in both hands and sucking cool water into his mouth, letting out a breath of relief once it's hit his throat. It's not sore, not really, just dry, and the water's good, the chill of it refreshing and beginning to clear his head. "Thanks."

"No problem." Zayn nods, watches them for a moment, then heads off out of sight.

"Don't worry about him," Louis says as Harry turns his head to try to watch Zayn. "He's just off to call his girlfriend. What are you doing after this?"

"Going home?" It comes out like a question. It's not meant to be, because of course Harry's going home. He's got an essay that needs finishing and Niall's going to expect him back at some point and Ed's going to want him to cook.

"Meeting anyone?" Louis dries himself as well on the same towel, chucking it onto the floor when he's done. "Come on, wet feet until we're out of here, I'll show you where your clothes are so you don't get cold again. It’s where you left your stuff when you arrived."

Harry follows obediently, careful not to slip with his wet feet on the tiled floor. Everything's tiled. Everything's wipe clean. Maybe they film in the showers sometimes, too. "I'm, um, my housemates are there, but not, like, plans."

Louis nods, taking a turn Harry wouldn't have noticed, and pushes a door open to reveal the small room where Harry had left his coat, shoes and bag. "Zayn's going to bring your clothes through. Did you bring any others?"

Heat flushes Harry's face, and he nods, takes another drink, and bends carefully to pick his bag up. "I didn't know if jeans would still be comfy, so..."

"Should be," Louis said easily, letting the door close behind him and tapping in a keycode on one of the lockers in the corner to fetch out clothes of his own. "Unless Zayn went harder than it looked like."

Harry's certain that he's bright red at this point. "No. No, it's, um. I'm okay."

"Sure?" Louis wriggles into joggers without bothering with underwear. "A bit sore is usual, you know. Sort of nice, actually."

It really doesn't make any sense to be embarrassed about it, given everything they've done together and everything Louis's seen and heard him do, but somehow actually talking about it is harder. "Yeah," Harry agrees, hoping Louis's going to take it as agreement to everything. He's not sure what else to say, or if he could say it if there was anything.

The door swings open again, a welcome distraction, and Zayn appears with an armful of clothes. "Think this is everything. Lou, you need to do some washing."

Louis makes a dismissive noise, picking through the pile to pull out his clothes. "It's not like they ever stay on for long."

"And that's why you're single," Zayn says dryly. "Harry, I've got yours here, too."

Harry mumbles thanks, putting the water bottle down and shuffling over to pick out the fabrics he recognises as familiar. Jeans, shirt, no socks, no underwear, gathered up to drape over one arm, and he doesn't really want to put them on again. He's got to put something on, because it's colder in the locker room than in the showers, but the clothes feel like they belong to another version of Harry. Also, the process of putting them on feels much too complicated to attempt.

Zayn puts a warm hand on Harry's free arm, then moves it up to touch his jaw. "Harry? Look at me, babe."

Harry blinks and shivers, and looks. It's not difficult, Zayn's about the same height as Harry is, his eyes dark and intent, and Zayn's hand on Harry's face is easy enough to follow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Zayn echoes softly. "Too fucking fast, again. Lou, what's in his bag?"

Rustling sounds come from behind Harry before Louis speaks. "Clean boxers, jeans, t-shirt, hoodie. Oh, and socks. All neatly folded."

"Well, unfold them, then," Zayn says, and drops his hand to Harry's shoulder. "Help us out a bit, yeah? You'll feel better when you're dressed, Harry."

It's probably true. Harry stumbles at an unexpected touch to his ankle, and then Louis's pulling Harry's underwear up his legs, settling the boxers into place with only a light snap of elastic. "You're going to have to do your t-shirt, Harold, you're too bloody tall for me to get you to put your arms up."

"I can do it," Harry protests.

"Course you can," Louis says, and presses the bunched up t-shirt into Harry's hand.

Zayn nods, and Harry pulls his t-shirt on, only getting it caught on his ears and his hair once. Zayn's right, clothes help, and not just against the temperature of the room. It's like armour, except not armour because it's soft and not heavy and wouldn't be any good if anyone hit it with a sword.

Harry picks up the water bottle again and takes another drink. Most of the water's gone, which is a shame because apparently most of his brain's gone as well.

"Jeans next," Louis says, holding them out.

"I know how to dress myself," Harry says. It's not really a complaint, not much. It's nice, being looked after a bit. Having people remind him and help him out.

"Yeah, well, Louis's got five sisters," Zayn says. "He forgets we're not all, like, four years old."

"Only sometimes," Louis says cheerfully, taking the water from Harry again so Harry's got his hands free to put his jeans on. "I was remembering it pretty well half an hour ago."

"Hope so too," Zayn says with a faint grin. "Better, Harry?"

Harry manages to fasten his flies at the first attempt, which is kind of a relief, and lifts his head to nod. "Yeah. Thanks."

Zayn nods back, then strips out of his robe without any apparent self-consciousness at all, pulling his own clothes on. "No problem, yeah? It's a bit of a change, going back to real stuff."

"Yeah," Harry repeats fervently, pulls his hoodie on, and sits down rather gingerly to put his socks on. He hadn't been lying to Louis, he's fine, really, but the soreness that Louis mentioned is definitely there in his arse and a bit in his hips and his thighs. It's a nice soreness, reassuring, satisfying, but it's a little unsettling when he's in a small room with the person who caused the soreness and who's apparently moved on from the whole thing.

"Speaking of," Louis puts in, hair messed from pulling his own shirt on. "Your housemates, have you got plans with them tonight? I mean, are they expecting you home any time?"

"Some time tonight," Harry says, trying to think, and wriggles his toes in his socks. They're still a little bit damp, sticking against each other. "Not really plans, though."

Louis nods. "Right, then. Want to come home with me for a bit?"

Harry pauses and re-runs that in his head to make sure he's heard it right. Louis, who he's seen do all kinds of stuff in videos, who's had sex with him on video today, inviting him home. It's scary and wonderful all at the same time, and he wants it so badly he's almost aching with it - not for the sake of seeing Louis's home, exactly, but for not having everything end so abruptly. "What, with all your sisters?"

"Not that home." Louis grins, passing Harry the water bottle back. "They're back up north. Come back to my flat for a bit, we'll get a curry - "

"Chinese," Zayn says swiftly.

"You won't be there," Louis retorts. "If Harry fancies a curry, he'll have a curry with me."

"You didn't get your arse fucked for the first time today," Zayn says, shuffling his feet into shoes. "No curry, Lou."

"Right," Louis says, pulling a face. "Yeah. Okay, not a curry, Harold. Chinese or pizza or something. Have a cuppa and unwind a bit."

It sounds like heaven, even if Harry can't quite understand what Zayn means about curry. "If you're sure it's okay?"

"Positive," Louis says firmly, grin breaking out again. "My flatmate won't mind, you'll probably like him, everyone likes him. It's okay, he knows what I do, it pays most of the rent."

Weight settles in Harry's chest again, less certain at the mention of someone else. "So he'll know what we've been doing today?"

"What I've been doing," Louis agrees. "Doesn't have to know what you've been doing, if you don't want. I mean, Liam's not going to watch the stuff we've done, he gets weird enough if I walk about the flat with my willy out."

"Do you do that a lot?" Harry finishes the water and stuffs the bottle in his back, pulling his boots on. Everything he puts on is like another layer away from everything that's happened, more separation, with the aches in his body wrapped inside as a reminder it was real.

"Not when it's this cold out," Louis says cheerfully. "Bit unflattering, really. Do you?"

Harry bites his lip on the memory of Niall trying to make his way from the kitchen to the bathroom with his eyes closed. "More than my housemates want me to."

"No taste, some people." Louis stands up, fully dressed. "Come on, Haz. My treat. Send your tasteless housemates a text and come over to mine for a bit. Do you play Xbox?"

"Not very well." Still slightly dazed, Harry finds his phone, turns it on, and sends Niall and Ed a quick message to let them know he's safe and he'll be home late. "I have to get home before midnight, though."

"Good stuff, I like winning." Louis grabs for Harry's free hand, towing him towards the door. "Sure you won't join us, Zayn?"

Zayn shakes his head, his own phone in his hand. "Promised Pez I'd take her out tonight. Call if you need me, though, yeah?"

"We won't," Louis says confidently. "I'll give Harry your number when we're back at mine, in case. This way, Harry, we'll get a cab outside."

The student in Harry - and his budget - balks at the idea. "A cab?"

"My treat," Louis repeats, and grins, pulling Harry along the corridor, through the foyer, towards the doors. "I've been doing this a bit longer than you, it all helps, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry agrees, turning the idea of actual spare money over in his mind, and lets Louis take him outside and bundle him into a black cab. It’s a relief not to be going to find a bus on his own, but if he’d thought about how his afternoon would be ending, going home with Louis Tomlinson wouldn’t have been on the list of possible options. 

He sits back gingerly, cautious of the lingering soreness in his arse, bag secure between his feet as he clips his seatbelt into place, and takes a deep breath, still trying to settle himself. “Why?”

“Mmm?” Louis glances across at him as the cab pulls into traffic. “Why what?”

“This,” Harry says, with a gesture that’s meant to take in the cab and the invitation and Harry himself. 

“Oh, I thought you were going to ask me why I do porn,” Louis says, relaxing with a grin. “We can talk about that one later. You mean why did I make you come home with me?”

“Pretty much,” Harry admits. He wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but it’s close enough not to argue with. “You don’t know me.”

“Exactly,” Louis says, patting the seat between them. “You seem nice, you’re really pretty, and going away to be with anyone who doesn’t get what we do right after is a bit shit, really. Ignore what Zayn says, I don’t think you’re like my sister or anything, yeah?”

“Good,” Harry says firmly, deeply relieved. 

Louis nods. “So it’s, like, decompression time? Think of it like going out for a drink after work with your mates. It’s like reminding us that we’re people, not just jobs.”

Harry nods in return, more thoughtful. “So this is… you do this with everyone?”

“Well, not this exactly,” Louis admits, then leans forward to tap on the glass. “Can you take the right here, please? It’s quicker to go in the other end of the road at this time of day.”

The driver grunts agreement and the cab swings into another lane, sliding Harry across the seat even with his seatbelt on, far enough to nudge into Louis’s hand.

Louis smiles at Harry and pats his thigh, leaving his hand resting there. “Like, some people, we’d probably go to the pub or Starbucks or wherever, depends on the time of day, make sure they’re okay, go our separate ways. But you went down pretty hard, I want to take you somewhere more private. Anyway, I like you. I’m keeping you.”

Harry blinks, warmth filling him at the unexpected declaration, and ignores whatever Louis means about going down because it sounds like it means something more than a blow job and he doesn’t really want to talk about it in the back of a taxi. “Keeping me?”

“Yep,” Louis squeezes Harry’s thigh. “You’re stuck with me for a bit. Especially if you’re okay with me beating you at Xbox. Here, give me your phone, yeah? Unlock it for me.”

Harry leans forward, messy hair tumbling over his face as he fetches his phone from his bag, unlocks it, and hands it over to Louis without thinking about what might be on there. By the time he’s thought about some of his apps and his saved files, Louis’s handing it back to him.

“There,” Louis says. “You’ve got my number. If you don’t want to be kept, just delete it, okay? I’ll still give you Zayn’s, he’ll want to know you’re okay too. But if you’re okay with it, just call me sometime so I can get your number too.”

Harry’s smiling wide enough to make his cheeks ache, and not just from the reminder of the effort he put into sucking Louis’s cock earlier. He glances down at his phone, still unlocked, seeing the contacts list open and Louis’s name in there, and taps the icon on the screen to call the number.


End file.
